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Gabe snorted. “Half of this shit is remnants from my emo teenager phase. But I’m not in here a lot, so I never bothered getting rid of it.”
“And I assume the fuckboys you pick up at bars don’t care that you’ve got David Bowie’s epic crotch bulge staring them in the face.”
“Fuckboys prefer it, didn’t you know?” Gabe challenged.
“I wouldn’t know, in fact,” Oliver said with an indignant sniff, and Gabe laughed as he went to his dresser, pulling out a large t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Oliver took them, giving them a sniff, then nodded. “Thanks, mate.”
“No worries. I’m going to change and check on Leo. Just get comfy and I’ll let you know if he needs anything.”
Oliver wanted to protest, but it was Gabe’s house, and honestly letting someone else take the lead for even a few hours was the respite he was craving. The second the door shut, Oliver wriggled out of his club clothes and into the comfy pajamas his host had provided.
It was a damn surreal night to say the least, and Oliver could definitely count on one hand how many times he’d ended up in someone else’s bed. He made it a rule to never sleep over, and when they were in London, he was too petrified to let Leo alone in his mother’s house for too long to ever have a full night out. It made his friendships fade quickly, and relationships a pipe dream.
But climbing into the bed now felt nice. It was well worn, the comforter heavy and soothing, and there was something about Gabe’s smell that made him instantly relax. He pulled one of the pillows over, burying his face in it, and he could feel fatigue growing, making his eyes heavy and bones ache.
Gabe returned a few minutes later, wearing a big shirt and a pair of boxers. He gave Oliver a small grin as he reached over for the light switch, and the room plunged into darkness. In the faded light of a far-off streetlamp, Oliver watched as Gabe crossed to the bed and pulled back the covers.
“Well?”
“He’s warm and breathing. I don’t think he’s puked since you got him in the tub, so my aunt’s shitty blankets might yet be unharmed.”
Oliver let out a breath of air, feeling his chest unknot a little more, and he rolled onto his back, putting his arm above his head. “I appreciate this. It’s kind of weird, sharing a bed like this, but…”
“Think of it like camp or something.”
Oliver snorted a laugh. “Mate, I don’t think you quite know how posh we grew up. Boarding school and any camps we attended had private rooms and rowing lessons. We never roughed it or shared.”
“You royal or something?”
That made Oliver openly laugh. “No. My dad comes from money. He moved from Kyoto to London when he was in his twenties to start up a publishing company. He met my mum—my guess is had no idea how fucking mental she was—and they got married. By the time she was pregnant with my sibling, he was ready to turn tail and never see her again.”
“Divorced?” Gabe asked quietly.
“Nah, never bothered. He just started up a couple of divisions of his company here in the States. One in New York, one in San Francisco. Assumed—rightly so—that the bitch would never want to cross the ocean. Course he never had much thought for me or Leo—never thought maybe leaving his sons with the mad cow was a bad idea—” He stopped himself, realizing he was revealing too much. “I just mean, erm…”
Oliver quieted when Gabe crossed the distance between them, laying a warm hand in the center of Oliver’s chest. “You know it’s alright, don’t you?”
“What is?”
“Venting. You’re not there. She can’t hurt you, or Leo. You’re safe here.”
“Yes, thank you, Captain Obvious,” Oliver said, but it was more a knee-jerk reaction than anything. Gabe’s words actually had soothed him a little, and to repay the favor, he reached up very slowly and laid his hand on top of the other man’s. He let it rest with just a little bit of pressure, and when their fingers shifted and slotted together, Gabe didn’t pull away. “Sorry.”
Gabe laughed, breathy and soft. “It’s fine. And it’s also obvious you and Leo are siblings.” He didn’t move closer, which was exactly what Oliver needed to guide him into one of the first restful sleeps he’d had in years.
Three
When he came to, Oliver became aware of several things in no specific order:
He was warm and comfortable.
A weight was pressing around his middle.
He had slept better than he had in forever.
And he was not in his own bed.
Blinking against the harsh light, he peered over his shoulder into a mess of dark curls. He became aware of breath puffing across the back of his neck, and he realized the warm, heavy weight around his waist happened to be an arm. An arm holding him into a very tight cuddle.
